


Fighting Not to Make Mistakes

by tillyenna



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Underage, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillyenna/pseuds/tillyenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has been de-aged by Loki, he is now 14, and all of a sudden Phil doesn't want him physically anymore. Unsurprisingly, Clint takes that brilliantly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Not to Make Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> In response to the prompt:
> 
> Clint and Coulson are in an established relationship when Clint gets de-aged physically so that he has the body of a 13 year old; however he still has all of his adult memories. 
> 
> As he still has the mind and memories of his adult self, he wants to continue his relationship with Coulson, but Coulson is disgusted by the suggestion and refuses. Clint is still very insecure about their relationship (he doesn't understand what Coulson sees in him) and doesn't take the rejection well. Maybe he thinks that Coulson was only with him for his body? Still, he didn't have a bad body even then and it's not like plenty of people didn't want sex with him at that age...
> 
> So yeah, Clint has the body of a 13 year old and the mind of an adult. When he really was 13 he was sexually abused by a number of men (but never really considered what had happened to be abuse) so he realy doesn't understand why Coulson doesn't want him physically anymore.
> 
> \---
> 
> I also do not understand American law, other than the hollywood version, so any legal screw-ups please attribute to the fact I'm British.

There was no blue flash of light, although by rights, there should have been. There was just Loki, laughing over his shoulder before he disappeared, leaving the ten foot tall giant which had been guarding him alone, facing the Avengers.

“Avengers sound off,” Steve tapped his comm, he knew not to trust things when Loki vanished.

“Widow.” Natasha’s voice said softly in his ear.

“Iron man!” Tony yelled, as always, over compensating for the roar of his thrusters which no-one else could hear.

“Son of Odin!” Thor seemed to change his call sign more regularly than he changed his socks, still, they always knew it was him.

Steve didn’t need the hulk to check in - giant green rage monsters are predictably easy to spot.

That only left Barton.

Clint came round lying flat on his back, staring up at the sky with Steve’s voice in his ear. 

“Hawkeye are you receiving? Please confirm your position.”

“Hawkeye,” He managed to croak out, his voice oddly higher than usual, and it cracked at the end of the word.

He could hear Tony’s sniggers over the comms system, “Did Barton’s balls just drop?” he laughed.

He glanced down at himself, his figure considerably scrawnier, and shorter than it had been a few minutes ago. Tightening his belt he got unsteadily to his feet, his shoes now a few sizes too big.

“Hawkeye can you get a shot on that thing?” Steve asked.

Deciding against giving a verbal answer Clint grabbed his bow, he flexed it a couple of times, it was going to hurt to draw, but he should just about be able to manage it. He let the arrow fly loose and it flew straight into the giant’s eye socket, exploding on impact and killing the thing.

“Good work Barton,” Steve called over the link, “Let’s all pull it in to me before we head back to base.”

Clint unlaced his boots and strung them around his neck before heading down the side of the building, there was no way he was going to be able to walk any distance in shoes that were too big. His bow wouldn’t stay slung over his shoulder anymore either, it kept slipping down his arm, so he chalked the string up to a lost cause and kept it gripped in his teeth during his descent – he’d be damned before he’d ask for help.

By the time he approached where the others were stood in the corner of the park, they had all gathered up, and nobody seemed to pay him much attention.

“Well,” he said, with a cough, his voice squeaking embarrassingly, “Looks like tasha’s won magic-bingo, although I’m pretty sure she cheats.” He smirked.

They all whirled around to face him, Tony and Steve gawping in surprise, Thor in horror at his brother’s actions, Natasha with a glare on her face.

“I don’t cheat!” She protested, “How would I cheat?”

Clint shrugged his skinny shoulders. “We heading back to base?” he asked calmly.

“Why aren’t you freaking out about this cupid?” Tony asked him irritatingly.

Clint just shrugged again in answer, “Could be worse – I could have been a baby, or useless or something. At least I can still shoot like this.”

“I’d be freaking out,” Steve admitted, in an odd way it was like Clint had undergone the serum, but backwards, going from the muscled, trained warrior that he was, into a scrawny kid.

“I think he’s adorable.” Natasha teased, reaching out a hand to ruffle Clint’s messy hair.

Clint short her a dark look in response, “Can we just go already? I know I’m going to have a million tests to sit through in medical.”  
   
Four hours later he was finally released from the doctor’s care. They were satisified that he wasn’t at any particular risk of harm, although incredibly malnourished and in need of a warm meal. He’d pulled a muscle in his shoulder in drawing his bow, a much heavier draw than the one he’d been using as a teenager. They checked various things and managed to place his age at  13 or 14 (Clint didn’t want to tell them that it was as if he’d just turned 14 , his voice had properly broken not long after his fourteen birthday, this irritating squeaking was undesirably familiar. He’d still retained all his memories before the transformation, although they told him that due to his hormonal balance and the structure of his cerebral cortex he’d probably end up thinking like a teenager (he’d refrained from mentioning that he’d had to think like an adult from about the age of ten – he’d long ago learnt that making sarky comments meant the doctors kept you in longer). He was small for his age, he didn’t know why they told him that, he’d always been small and underweight for his age, but other than all of that, he was free to go.

A nurse took him up to the debriefing room, so he irritated her by disappearing off into the air vents the second she turned her head away, and making his own way to the debriefing. They’d proved he still had his memories so he didn’t understand why they thought he needed a babysitter. On top of that, boy were the vents easier to navigate at this size. He dropped easily into the room, landing behind Fury. “Sorry I’m late.” He laughed, sitting down in his usual chair beside Coulson.

“And then that happened.” Steve sighed, gesturing at Clint, “What have the medics said?”

 “That I’m me.” Clint resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Steve, he hated it when he did his stuck up soldier act. “Fourteen years old, but still me.”

“Fourteen!” Natasha exclaimed, “Wow, you’re titchy for your age.” She stuck her tongue out rudely at him and he flicked her his middle finger in response.

“Children, please.” Coulson sighed, quite used to Natasha and Clint’s bickering. “Have the medics given you the all clear?” He asked Clint.

“They say I need dinner,” He grinned, “Lots of dinner.” He was starving hungry, and it felt like his last decent meal had been days ago – that wasn’t a side effect of the magic, he could remember this feeling being constant throughout his childhood.

Coulson raised an eyebrow at Fury who nodded imperceptibly. “Go and feed him, and debrief him while you do so.”

Coulson stood, tugging down the corners of his suit jacket as he did so, “Sir,” he said to Fury, and, resisting the urge to hold out his hand to Clint, “Come on Barton.”

“Where are we going?” Clint practically skipped after him, “I’m starving.”

“We’ll go to the cafeteria.” Coulson sighed as they stepped out of the room, closing the door behind them. He paused slightly in his stride, turning to face Clint, “Are you OK Clint?”

Clint just shrugged, “Hungry, tired,” he gave Coulson a cheeky grin, “Pretty much like being 14 was the first time around.” He paused, and then added in a barely audible whisper, “A hug might go a long way though.”

“Come here,” Coulson sighed, pulling him into his arms, it felt odd, to be holding a younger version of his boyfriend, but Clint needed him right now and that was what he needed to focus on. He buried a kiss in Clint’s mop of hair before stepping away, “Come on,” he said again, much softer this time, and letting his fingers lace through Clint’s, “Let’s go and get you something to eat.”  
   
As they entered the cafeteria, Clint could feel people staring at him, he did his best to glare back, even though he was only fourteen and they were trained government agents, eh could still take any of them in a fight, and was perfectly prepared to should anyone say anything. He glanced up at the menu boards and remembered with a sinking feeling that he learnt to read after he’d joined SHIELD, in fact it was Coulson who had taught him. The fact that he’d now lost this ability and the letters on the board appeared jumbled and confusing made very little sense, but if there was one thing he’d learnt since being an Avenger, it was that magic very rarely made sense.

“So,” he said, trying to appear nonchalant, “What’s on offer?”

Phil started for a moment, and then realised what was happened and read the menu to Clint.

“Is everything an option?” Clint grinned cheekily, “I’m starved.”

Phil sighed and ordered him pizza with chips, garlic bread and salad.

“I don’t want salad thanks.” Clint muttered under his breath.

“Tough.” Coulson felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, some things never changed, “You’re having salad.” He got a bottle of coke to go with it, and shoved it into 

Clint’s hands, “Eat up,” he commanded, sitting down across from him and getting out the piles of paperwork they’d have to wade through.  
   
Back when Clint had first started at SHIELD they’d done all their mission debriefs this way, sat over a meal, Coulson writing up what Clint was telling him and filling in all the forms necessary.

Barton gobbled down his dinner in record time, and batting his long eyelashes at Phil, persuaded his boyfriend to go and get him dessert as well. By the time they’d finished up it was gone 11, and Coulson could see that Clint was stifling yawns every few minutes.

“Let’s get you home,” he said softly.

“You’re not going to let me drive, are you?” Clint scowled at him

Coulson just snorted in response, “Reckon you can see over the steering wheel?” He teased easily, ruffling his hair.

It was only a short drive back through the dark to the Avengers tower, and luckily when they got there the rest of the team were nowhere to be seen.

Phil followed Clint up to their room, but paused in the doorway as Clint walked in. “I’ll, uh” he stammered slightly, feeling awkward, “I’ll sleep in one of the guest room tonight yeah? It’s probably best if you’re in familiar surroundings.”

Clint felt the disappointment like a blow to the chest, but it didn’t surprise him, of course Coulson felt this way. Glad he was facing away from Phil he fixed a grin on his face and glanced over his shoulder at the older man, “It’s cool,” he lied nonchalantly, “I get it.”

“Thanks,” The look of relief on Coulson’s face made his feelings perfectly clear to Barton. “Night Clint,” he smiled softly, “I’ll be just across the corridor if you need me.”

“Night,” Clint whispered, his back to Phil. He waited until he heard the door snick shut before he sank into bed, drawing his knees up to his chest. He’d honestly thought that what he and Coulson had was special, but apparently he’d thought wrong.

 

Clint slept poorly, he wasn’t sure if it was because his teenage body wasn’t used to sleeping with a full belly in a warm and comfortable bed, or if it was because he missed Phil. When he finally gave up on trying to sleep at 5:30, JARVIS addressed him.

“I’ve had some clothes delivered for you Master Barton, from the measurements the SHIELD medics took for you they should fit, and I’ve based the aesthetic choices on your current wardrobe.”

“Thanks JARVIS,” Clint sighed, at least someone was on his side.

“And Miss Romanov is in the kitchen eating breakfast, she’s mentioned that if you’re awake she’d like to spar with you and see what you’re currently capable of.”

“Thanks,” This time, it was accompanied by a grin. Clint jumped out of bed and grabbed some training clothes, not bothering with a shower, he’d only need another one after his session with Natasha. He headed down to the kitchen to find her hunched over a cup of coffee, a bowl of fruit salad in front of her.

“Morning squirt.” She smirked at him.

“Don’t call me that,” he glared back at her, practically oozing gratitude, although he’d do his best not to show it, it meant a lot that she was treating him as usual. He grabbed a bowl of cereal and as normal, they ate their breakfast in companionable silence.  
   
After they’d eaten they headed down to the gym that Tony had had installed when he’d rebuilt the tower and after a brief warm up they started sparring with each other. Clint could tell Natasha was going easy on him, she could beat him 9 times out of 10 anyway and he’d lost his strength. His strength had never been his greatest asset though and his flexibility was back to what it was at its peak.

After the third time in a row Natasha had floored him easily she stared down at him, “You’re distracted.” She said simply, sitting down on the floor beside him. “What’s up.”

“It’s nothing,” Clint shrugged, “Just getting used to being a kid again I guess.”

Natasha shot him a withering look, “Don’t lie to me Barton. What’s on your mind.”

He didn’t know why he’d even tried, he could never successfully fool Natasha. “Phil.” He admitted honestly. “I guess I’d always thought that we had a real relationship, that it was more than just about being a piece of arm-candy for him.” He shrugged, “But now I’m a stupid scrawny kid again he’s lost all interest in me.”

“I will fix this.” Natasha promised, hauling him to his feet.

Clint just stared sullenly at his toes, “How?” he sighed.

Natasha smiled sweetly at him, “By beating seven hells out of you,” she grinned, and aimed a kick for his head.

This time it was more of a fair fight, even if she was giving him an advantage and they fought round after round for a few hours before, exhausted, they decided to call it a day.  
   
Drenched in sweat they headed back up to the kitchen where the rest of their team were tucking into their breakfast, Natasha calmly sashayed over to Coulson and slapped him hard on the cheek. “You’re an ass.” She snarled.

“Tasha!” Clint squeaked, “You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled as an afterthought, “I mean,” he shrugged carefully avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze, “We all know this magic stuff isn’t permanent, it’ll be a week, tops, and my body will be back to usual and Coulson will be like me again.”

“You’re still an ass,” Natasha pointed a menacing finger at Coulson.

“What?” Coulson looked up at them both, confusion on his face, “What’s this all about?”

“I get it,” Clint snapped, “It’s fine, you don’t like me enough to deal with me when I’m not looking as hot as usual.” He shrugged, trying to appear cool, “That’s fine, it’s nothing.”

“Clint!” Coulson sighed, utterly exasperated he threw his hands in the air, “I didn’t leave you to sleep on your own last night because I don’t love you,” to his credit, he barely stuttered over the Ll-word’ despite the fact it wasn’t something he’d yet openly admitted to Clint, “I did it because you’re currently under age!”

“He’s what?” Natasha’s brows furrowed in confusion, growing up in isolation surrounded by people with dubious morals meant that a lot of American laws confused her.

“Oh that’s bullshit.” Clint snorted derisively. “Firstly, because I’m still me in my head, I still think like me, I still have all my memories, and if you liked me for more than just my body, that would be what mattered.”

“I do...” Phil started to protest, but Clint cut him off.

“And secondly, like it matters. Like I wasn’t doing guys your age the first time I was fourteen. It’s nothing.” He shook his head at Phil, “Your excuses are bullshit.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, the glares he shot around daring anyone to follow him.

“Well,” Tony drummed his fingers on the tabletop, “Isn’t this just peachy.”

Coulson shot him a look that silenced him instantly, before he turned to Natasha, “It’s illegal in this country to have sex with someone under the age of 18,” he explained simply, “I don’t want to break the law, but I really don’t want to hurt Clint,” the silent ‘help me’ was left unsaid, Natasha was Clint’s best friend and knew him the best out of all of them, if anyone could help it would be her.

“So talk to him.” She said simply, grabbing a cup of coffee, utterly unapologetic for slapping Phil earlier.  
   
Phil almost knocked when he reached his bedroom door, but then paused, partially because it felt odd to be asking permission to enter his own room, and partially because he didn’t know what would or wouldn’t offend Clint. He listened carefully and, hearing the sound of the shower running, slipped inside, sitting on the bed and waiting.

 

When Clint came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his skinny waist he paused, seeing Phil sat on the bed, and for a moment they just stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to say.

Eventually Phil broke the pause, “Were you really having sex with men my age when you were fourteen?”

Clint just shrugged in answer, before saying simply, “I had to eat.” He paused a moment, ears burning in shame before he asked “Do I disgust you?”

“No!” Coulson protested immediately, going to stand, and then changing his mind, and staying sat where he was, he looked at Clint with sadness in his eyes, “You make me sad,” he admitted, “So very sad when I think about your childhood,” his expression flickered slightly, stirring something deep within Clint, before he added “And angry,” there was a fire burning in his eyes now, “I want to find them all, find them all and kill them.”

Clint let himself give a half smile, “Most of them are already dead.”

Phil let himself smile at Clint, his mouth barely twitching up at the corners, “Most isn’t all.” He answered, “I’m sure between Tasha and I we can take them all out in a week.”

Clint felt the tension bleed out from his shoulders and he let himself smile properly, sitting down on the bed next to Coulson he leant against the older man, feeling Phil’s arm wrap around his shoulders. “Do you really love me?” he asked softly.

“So much.” Phil whispered back.

Clint grinned up at him, “I know,” he smirked, before adding at Coulson’s puzzled expression, “You’re letting me drip on your suit.”

“Brat,” Phil grinned at him, ruffling his damp hair, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We’re still not having sex.” He said sternly, lifting Clint’s chin so he had to meet his gaze, “I respect you too much to abuse you like that right now.”

“That’s not fair!” Clint pouted at him, “The doctors say my hormones are all over the place,” He fluttered his eyelashes at Phil, knowing the older man found his eyes attractive, “I need you.”

“Tough,” Phil pressed a kiss to his temple, knowing it was going to be a very tough few days before the magic wore off.

Clint lifted a hand to brush against Phil’s neck, “Can I at least have a proper kiss?” He asked.

Coulson paused for a moment, mentally weighing the ethics of the situation against the uncertainty and low self esteem that was clearly lacing itself through Clint’s psyche. He sighed softly and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss against Clint’s lips. “Only because I love you,” he muttered softly, before leaving so Clint could dress in peace.  
   
Clint spent most of the day in meetings with medical and with the psych team, trying to calculate how he was feeling both physically and mentally. Luckily though they allowed him some time on the range – he’d dug his old bow out of storage, the one he’d used in the circus, and he proved to them that his aim was as good as ever. As he shot the last arrow in his quiver he looked up to see Coulson watching him from the observation platform, and shot him a grin.  
   
Dinner was thankfully quite a relaxing experience for Clint, all the team ate together, and OK, so Tony spent the entire time teasing him every time his voice cracked, but Tony teasing him was familiar, and he sat with Phil on one side of him and Tasha on the other, and with those two at his side there was nothing he couldn’t conquer.

 

After dinner he was allowed to pick the movie they all watched, usually they had a rota, but there was a standing agreement that any team-member currently under the effects of a magical spell got to override that rota, and he sat on the floor watching it, leaning against Phil’s knee, as Coulson used one hand to fill out paperwork and threaded the other hand through his short hair.

This time when he got to their room to go to bed Clint simply turned and stared up at Coulson, “Please Phil,” he said softly, “I got no sleep last night and I’m freaking out because of this.” The last part may not have been entirely true, but a little bit of emotional manipulation never hurt anyone.

“Ok,” Phil says it so softly that Clint barely hears it, but he doesn’t need words when Phil steps inside the room and closes the door quietly behind him. 

They brush their teeth side by side, it’s familiar, it’s routine, but Clint can only feel the ache in his side where Phil’s fingertips would usually be brushing against his waist by now. He shivers as he climbs into the cold sheets and watches aghast as Coulson exits the bathroom wearing honest to god pajamas.

“Seriously?” He snorted slightly, Coulson couldn’t look any more uptight in his striped pajamas.

“I meant what I said Clint,” Phil said sternly, climbing into his usual side of the bed, “I respect you too much to take advantage of you.”   
Clint rolled his eyes in response, talking about respect in relationships was about as bullshitty as you could get in his mind, still, he cared a little less when Phil told Jarvis to kill the lights, and reaching out wrapped one arm around his waist to pull him closer.

“I’ve got you OK?” Phil muttered into his hair, pressing a soft kiss into the tangled locks, “I’ll keep you safe tonight.”

For a few moments it was perfection and Clint was the calmest he’d been since he’d transformed into a teenager, but then he could focus on nothing but the feel of Phil’s hand against his skin, Phil’s chest pressing against his back and he could feel himself getting hard. Ignoring the blush in his cheeks, he twisted around to face his boyfriend, burying his face in the familiar crook of Phil’s neck. Carefully, he waited, still a few more moments before the lack of friction became unbearable and he shifted just ever so slightly to rub his erection against Phil’s leg.

“No.” Coulson’s response was immediate, he placed a hand on each of Clint’s shoudlers and physically pushed him away. “How many times do I have to tell you Clint? We’re not doing this.”

“You said you loved me!” Clint protested, “I want this Phil, I need this.”

Coulson just shook his head, staring at Clint with an expression that could only be described as horror. “I’m not like those other men Clint, you are a child right now and I will not do that to you.”

“You make it sound so dirty.”

“And wouldn’t it be?” Couslon spluttered in response.

“No,” Now Clint turned away from him, “Not with you,” he looked back at Phil, his eyes wide, “You make me feel cleaner than I’ve ever felt before.” He reached out and brushed his thumb across Phil’s lower lip, “You make me feel special.”   
Coulson fought back a surge of bile as he wondered how many other men had heard that phrase from a teenaged Clint Barton, “No Clint,” he repeated, “I can’t do this, I can’t do it precisely because you are special.”

Clint physically backed away from him, “You think I’m repulsive don’t you?” he muttered as he climbed out of the bed.

“No Clint I don’t...” Phil called out, but he was cut off by Clint slamming and locking the bathroom door behind him.

For a few moments there was nothing but still, Phil ran his hands across his face, for once in his life completely unsure of what to do, and feeling like his night couldn’t get any worse. And then it did. Years of training had honed his hearing, and from inside the bathroom he could hear Clint’s moans of pleasure - slightly higher pitched than he was used to, but still his Clint.

Phil Coulson buried his head in the pillows and tried not to listen as his boyfriend yelled his name as he came.

When he woke the next morning Phil was still alone in bed. He got up and tiptoed towards the bathroom door. Still locked. Carefully, dreading what he was going to find inside, he picked the locked and pulled the door open.

Lying inside, incredibly naked, entirely unconscious and completely adult, was Clint. His own Clint.

“Hey,” Coulson bent down softly, brushing Clint’s cheek with a hand, “Wake up sleepy head.”

Clint’s eyes fluttered open gracefully and he glanced, first down at himself, and then up at Coulson. “Hey,” he said softly, “You love me again now?”

“Oh Clint,” Phil sighed, sitting down on the floor beside him and pulling the naked archer into his arms, “I never stopped loving you, you know that right?”

Clint shrugged softly, still groggy, his body feeling slightly unfamiliar, “You wouldn’t sleep with me,” he accused.

“No.” Phil bit his bottom lip softly, trying to decide how best to explain what he was feeling, “I don’t want to be just another in a long string of men who’ve hurt you.”

“It was my choice,” Clint reached up softly and stroked the older man’s cheek, “You’re my choice.”

“No Clint,” Phil frowned, “A teenager isn’t old enough to make that sort of a choice. That’s what statutory rape means - just because you agreed to it, doesn’t mean that what they were doing wasn’t abuse.” He pressed a soft kiss to Clint’s forehead, “And I never want to hurt you. Ever.”

“I love you,” Clint slurred softly, saying the words for the first time, letting his hand grip Phil’s neck, “You make me feel like I matter.”

Coulson bent down and pressed a kiss against Clint’s lips, “You do matter,” he whispered, “You matter so fucking much.”


End file.
